


Changeling

by persephone_il (the_ragnarok), the_ragnarok



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-02
Updated: 2002-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/persephone_il, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets lonely. He makes do with what he can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changeling

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU of an AU, really. The other AU was never completed. I probably still have bits and pieces of it somewhere, mouldering.

The door only opened if you knew the password, which he did. It was hard to forget, considering that it was played in a tape just behind the door, volume down to minimum. There wasn't a lot of noise inside, not here, which was why Jim and others like him visited the place.

The Changeling was neutral ground, always had been. Even if the scent of others who had his abilities made Jim's teeth grind together, it was worth it. Besides, it wasn't that easy to smell the other Sentinels through the other scent.

Jim took a deep breath as he walked in. The pheromones were thick enough to choke; this place never needed a sign, though it tended to change location quite often. You could practically smell it from the street.

The light was dim inside; big surprise. They wouldn't get a lot of their specialized clientele if they didn't cater to it, would they?

The tables were mostly occupied by groups of one, men and women nursing drinks and looking contemplative. Or just looking at the bar, if they hadn't made their way there yet. Jim deliberately kept his eyes turned away. There was something to be said for delayed gratification.

But there were a few who seemed to invite company. Hell, even his kind got lonely sometimes, the kind of loneliness that couldn't be diffused at the touch of a warm, generous body.

He took an inventory of his own feelings. Decided he wasn't quite that lonely yet. Normal people mostly didn't like his kind much, but that was hardly surprising, if you knew people at all. His kind mostly kept to themselves. And as for the one kind of person that _could_ keep him company--

Well. He was here for a reason, wasn't he?

He sat down in one of the tables - it was never crowded here - and waited for the service to show up. It did, in the form of a dimpled waitress, smiling brightly at him. She was cute, but he wasn't in the mood for smiles. He reached under her short, pleated skirt and rubbed a bit at the swelling. She was moist - must have been on shift for a while. Technically, he wasn't suppose to fondle the waiters at table duty, but no one seemed to really follow that particular rule.

She gasped, and Jim basked in the smoky scent that rose from her, in the illicity of the entire act. Normal people got arrested for things that were trifles compared to what went on in the Changeling. Sometime, he really loved the fucking senses.

She was trying to maintain the smile through the intent expression of pleasure - oh, yeah, he knew what he was doing - and failing, her eyes closing. He gave her one last goodbye tickle and let go. The heavy stuff was for the ones on bar duty.

She was bright and perky again in a matter of seconds, her breath a little heavy, showing no sign of frustration. Sometimes Jim wondered if that was a trained quality.

Perhaps not. The Guides he'd met were one of three kinds; the waiters and waitresses of the Changeling and similar places all around the world, who were warm and welcoming of his touch, flowing with hormones like the milk and honey of the body; the teachers of his school, who never, ever let any more of their skin be seen that was absolutely necesary; and the Guides bonded to others of his kind, snatched into cover as soon as their Sentinels saw him.

He felt, sometimes, as if he ought to have been insulted by that, as if they thought he would harm their Guides. To be honest, he understood all too well. He began his education late, to say the least; his senses only went back online now that he was an adult, and he hadn't bonded as an adolescent, as most of them did. The thought of taking a Guide who was half his age made him uncomfortable, to say the least, and the ones closer to his age reeked of desperation and loneliness.

Jim forcibly shook himself out of that line of thought. The perky waitress was gone already, only a beer and a trace of pheromones left in her wake.

He gulped down the beer, slammed the can back onto the table, and marched towards the bar with a determined air.

The bar, as always, was covered in so many bits of naked flesh it was hard to discern one bit from another. Jim closed his eyes and sniffed, searching for just the right scent.

There it was - honey soft, but jutting sharply from the mixture of other scents. Male. He didn't know this one; must've been new. There was never a lack of new recruits for places like this, young Guides who just recently understood that the world wasn't what they told you about in school, all about finding someone special and working in some exciting profession. The ratio of Sentinels to Guides was about one to ten, which meant nine out of every ten Guides were stuck. Not enough Sentinels to bond with them all, and only an idiot would let an unbonded Guide do anything more trying than teaching kids. They were too damned unstable; just look at their suicide rates.

But Jim didn't smell the stale hints of desolation. The man producing that smell either still had all his dreams in one piece or was stoned. Possibly both.

Right there, at the end of the bar, currently still occupied. Jim couldn't quite see him, distracted by the neon-blond hair of the woman currently working on him. She wasn't that bad, either, smelling of heat and mating imperatives. Jim could've just stood behind her, unbuttoned her pants--

It seemed that she was done, as she stood up, wiped her mouth and smirked at Jim. "Fucking sweet. Enjoy." She moved on.

The man lying on the bar moaned a bit, drawing Jim's attention. His deep blue eyes had the glazed look the Guides at this place got around the second hour of bar duty. His dick was straining, red and swollen, from a tight leather ring. It was mostly there as a reminder to the customers, though; don't let the service come unless you're sure you can get them up again.

The man - kid, really, he didn't seem much older than twenty - was muttering incoherent pleas, to which Jim was glad to answer. The kid's hands were clutching the wooden surface beneath him, spasming tighter as Jim took him in his mouth.

And yes, that was the best - all natural high guaranteed, no side effects whatsoever, just clean male musk and warmth and pressure in his mouth. The boy moaned so gratifyingly, thrusting into Jim's mouth with an energy that should've been spent and depleted half an hour ago.

Yes, sweet - that woman had some taste. And his voice was lovely, even now that it was hoarse from hours of crying for mercy, to be allowed to finally come. The kid spread out his legs, begging for everything Jim could give him. He never hesitated as Jim's finger circled his entrance, bearing down on it, his breath a hitching sob now.

Jim sent another hand to pinch the kid's nipples, hidden under a ridiculously large flannel shirt - some place the kid's chosen to be modest! - already hot and swollen from the torment that'd been inflicted on them that evening. The boy's ribs were a tiny bit too prominent, but he didn't smell hungry, so Jim ignored it for the time being.

"Please," the kid muttered, "plea--ah!" he cried as Jim stabbed a finger inside him, twitching and tightening around it. "Let me... please, I'll do anything, just..."

There was a weariness to his voice that rang a bell inside Jim; this was it, this and no further. The kid was dead on his feet. Or on his back. Whatever.

So he twisted the kid's nipple, swallowed him deep and rotated his fingers roughly, because sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind and after a couple of hours of intense arousal, it sometimes took a bit of pain to get yourself over that particular ledge.

The boy cried as he came, tears sliding down to mingle with sweat. His taste went down Jim's throat like a rollercoaster - tumbling quickly, and what a fucking rush. It felt as if the boy had pulled some hidden string inside Jim, opening something inside him which had been shut for months. God, it felt good to come.

Climax was different here than it was in his own room, with only his own hand for company. Of course, release was easier to reach here, but that was hardly a surprise. What was mostly missing was the teeth gritting knowledge of what was waiting beyond the haze of pleasure; a cold, empty apartment, a cold, empty bed, and the absolute certainty that you had nothing worth waking up for other than another day of doing a dangerous, difficult job which rarely seemed to make a difference anyway, without the one perk a person with his abilities normally had.

Although, come to think about it, the perks probably didn't have it much easier when they weren't bonded, considering that they rarely had even the thankless job to look forward to.

The thought was shaken away quickly and easily. You didn't get to be much of a cop unless you learned how not to think about things.

He held on to the kid's cock as it deflated, not quite sucking, just cradling it. The boy's stomach rose and fell heavily under his head.

Sooner than he would've thought Jim heard a voice. "Thanks, man. I was starting to think you guys were just gonna let me blow into pieces here." The stomach staggered up, forcing Jim to remove his head. Jim winced as he hopped to sit on the bar; he'd never liked the feeling of wet underwear.

The boy's eyes were clearer now. He smiled tentatively, and Jim found himself thinking that his scent was just as appealing in the aftermath. It was disturbing, really, how lovely he still looked; brown curls plastered to his forehead, face red with exertion and scruffy with five o'clock shade. Ridiculously, he was still wearing his shirt. Jim glanced at the name tag.

"Blair?" he read off it. The kid - Blair - smiled again.

"Yep. That's me." He made a motion towards Jim. "Uh, no one really told me what I'm supposed to do - except lie here, obviously - do you want--?" He made a vague gesture.

Jim slouched a bit, letting his legs open, and Blair's eye caught the wet stain on his pants. "No need, thanks. As for you - I'm supposed to get you hard again as quickly as possible."

Blair snorted. "I get that. 'Leave the facilities as you found them', huh?"

Jim found himself flushing. Well, yeah, but it wasn't like that-- was it?

He cast a glance around him, suddenly discomfited by all the naked flesh, all the naked sounds. "Your first night here?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. Didn't have any idea places like this exsisted. Gorgeos men and women, just wanting to do me - sounds like the worst kind of porn film." He snorted again. "If they only didn't think I have the stamina of an _elephant_ , this could've been my best wet dream ever. I think it was anyway." He squirmed a bit. "Speaking of stamina - do I have to get going just now? I think I'm kinda chafed."

Jim shrugged. "Then don't. Take five. It doesn't come out of _my_ pocket."

Blair sniggered. He looked a bit older now, maybe twenty five. "I guess." He checked his watch. "Moot problem, anyway. My shift's over, so I'm gone." He made his way through a mass of squirming body, his butt wiggling suggestively under the cover of his too-big shirt.

Just as Jim was succumbing to lustful thoughts, Blair turned to look back at him, mouthing 'thanks!' and smiling, a bright, scorchingly _real_ smile. It left Jim stunned for a moment, like a flash bulb in a camera.

Jim blinked, and the room was dim again, and hot - too hot for comfort. Blair was gone already - probably went to get a shower and change in the personell quarters upstairs. Jim made his way outside, saying nothing to anyone on the way.

Outside it was shockingly cold, and if Jim tried a bit he could see his breath misting into a pale cloud, illuminated by the streetlights.

A woman his age was standing outside. She was dressed respectably. The desperate glint in her eyes told him as much as her scent that she was a Guide. She gave him a brittle, too large smile, and asked him if he had a watch. It's twelve thirty two, he told her, and she widened her smile and her eyes a little bit, waiting for him to talk. Waiting for him to sweep her off her feet.

He gave her his own version of a smile, twisted and wry and not very joyful, and turned to walk away. He walked rapidly, wondering, as he listened to the passing cars and the rapid heartbeats of human beings twisted in intercourse underneath him, why the streets felt so silent all of the sudden.

* * *


End file.
